


what a wicked pack of cards

by Anonymous



Category: Lost Girl (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fuck Or Die, Ritual Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:22:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29517351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "They did not leave us here to rot in the dark; there is a purpose."Written in 2013 for Porn Battle 12, prompt: Bo/Ash, fae, power
Relationships: The Ash/Bo (Lost Girl)
Collections: Anonymous Fics





	what a wicked pack of cards

**Author's Note:**

> I have only seen to roughly around mid-season 1, so if this trips up, arjdghdl basically.

"Child," he said, and his voice was a soft rumble in the subterranean dark. Bo gripped his wrist tight and pulled up short. "You still have much to learn."

She wished she could see his face; she was kind of pissed off, and it would be easier to be pissed off at him without the stifling intimacy of this place. The walls _felt_ close, and if she could look at his way-too-fucking-calm expression she'd remember how she really didn't like him and be able to forget about the feel of his skin in her grip, or more importantly the sense of _power_ beneath the skin in her grip.

"Yeah," she said, a little late. "You've mentioned it before. Is this just more patronizing crap or do you actually have some information to offer?"

"This is a ritual," he said, and his voice held a note of amusement. "They did not leave us here to rot in the dark; there is a purpose."

"Yeah, well, I didn't like them. _Ergo_ , not big on playing their game and giving them what the want. Whatever they want."

"Their methods may not be to your tastes," he said. "But I doubt that even you would dispute their intentions."

Bo ground her teeth together. It made her feel a little childish, but it also meant her voice came out level when she asked, "I don't suppose you'd mind elaborating?"

"This place has been poisoned. Cursed." His hand slipped away and Bo grabbed for him instinctively in the dark, finding his arm and tightening her grip. "They intend to channel released...energies in order to purify it."

"I thought you guys looked after each other," Bo said impatiently. "You know, _party advantages_ and all that. Couldn't they just _ask_?"

There was a pause so long Bo figured he wasn't actually going to give her an answer. She glared at him in the dark, but apparently he decided that she deserved some truth this time around. "Such powerful magics are not permitted to be used so freely - especially on space this close to human settlements. It is noticed. They would not have dared petition for help for fear of their own part in the feud being discovered."

"Feud?"

"This - " He drew in a deep breath, not like Dyson sniffing the air for a trail but like a connoisseur rolling wine over his tongue. " - is _grudge_ magic."

"Okay." Bo chewed on the inside of her lip, frowning. She could buy that. Not like she was fluent in the subtleties of Fae magic, but this stuff stank. "But so far, you've been real sketchy about exactly what's required for this _release_."

She could have sworn she heard him sigh, as if wearied by those of less wisdom, age, and encyclopedic thousand-year experience than he. Bo kind of wanted to try to punch him in the face, but that would be impolitic and anyway, it was probably just nerves talking.

"You are a succubus, child. Can you not hypothesize what kind of magic they would want from you?"

" - okay," Bo said into the dark. "If you're saying what I think you're saying, I'd really like it if you _didn't_ call me 'child' _while saying it_. 'Cause that takes me to a whole new level of creepy."

The whisper of his exhale sounded like a chuckle.

"And what about you?" she pursued. "You're not an, an incubus. Are you?"

"No," he said, dryly. "But I am the Ash. It is my power to supplement yours that they desire, not my nature."

Bo folded her arms. "You're trying to tell me they kidnapped their _boss_. Who you just pointed out they don't want in the know."

"There are times when even I - how do the humans put it? - find it useful to be _incognito_. They made a mistake in their desperation."

"Aaand none of them happened to have the _good fortune_ to have had an audience with you, so you're stuck."

"Anyone who would have been granted an audience with me, Bo, would not be dirtying their hands with the particulars of this matter." He turned into her hand on his arm and suddenly they were a lot closer. She would have called his presence unobtrusive - neither implicitly sexual nor physically invasive - if not for the weight of power in the air, of deep-rooted strength.

It stroked something inside her until it stretched and crooned awake like a drowsy cat, and the unsheathing claws were the first prickle of her hunger.

"Shit," Bo said eloquently, unexpectedly breathless. "Can't you break out?"

"The artifact that they have used to imprison us was thought lost during the last long war," he told her, and his voice was unexpectedly flat and grave. "I will not risk damaging it."

"Great," Bo said. "Just great."

He turned fully to her. She felt the movement in the dark. "Surely this is not so difficult for you," he said. "Raised by humans or no, you _are_ Fae. It is - "

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Bo said. It was rude and potentially stupid, but if he kept talking she was going to lose her nerve. She found his face in the dark - her instincts there were unerring, at least - and pulled him in close.

At the last second she hesitated. "I'm on top," she said, with a bold veneer that was mostly bravado while she held what felt like a force of nature between her hands. "Not scraping my butt off on this rock." And then she kissed him.

And god, what he _tasted_ like.

Dyson had been like fireworks in her mouth, dizzy and electric-sweet. The Ash was like - fuck, like having an earthquake for a sex toy, power purling out and rocking through her, something honeyed and vast and just-rough-enough.

Bo pressed herself hungrily close, emerging from the fog enough to note that she'd forgotten efficiency and curses and freedom and that the Ash had settled his hands patiently on her hips, grip strong and steady as stone, and let her drink.

_Calm down_ , she told her thundering heartbeat, forcing herself to take a deep, steady breath. _This is ridiculous. You're acting like a kid in a candy store, and it's not like you won't be getting more by the time we're through._

_Ohhhhh boy._

The buttons on his shirt parted. Bo ran her hands down his chest, her nails drawing lightly against his skin, and tried to conquer the unnerving feeling that she was groping an enemy, not a bed partner. She'd never been that big of a fan of hate sex, and the vulnerability of taking her clothes off (of losing control) seemed - 

Unwise. To say the least.

He sighed, a gust of warm air against her skin, and Bo licked her tingling lips. "This need not be complicated," he informed her. "In this moment, at least, we are united in purpose."

"I don't really make enemies of _convenience_ ," Bo said, but she heard her own voice panting out the words and sought his mouth again, feeling it come slowly warm and mobile and alive. Apparently he'd decided he was into this game.

"No," he agreed against her mouth, and she thought _stop talking, please_ \- "you invite death upon your head for _moral_ concerns. I had nearly forgotten."

It should not be this easy to forget he was a Grade A dick with superpowers, but he was also a deeply deliberate lover. Maybe it was the thousand plus years of experience or maybe he was just a cold-blooded ruthless jackass in every arena or whatever, but he had patience down to a T.

And Bo didn't mind, because patience meant more build-up made more kissing meant feeding. She felt greedy and ravenous and not a little like she'd stuck her finger in a damn electrical socket.

"So this is a - " she was mumbling against his mouth and it was awkward and indistinct but she didn't want to move away and lose that taste, "tab A, slot B thing?"

"It is a fertility rite," he said. She couldn't tell if his voice had shifted over the roaring in her ears.

That was answer enough, she supposed.

_Screw this_ , she thought in sudden exasperation. _He's not_ my _king_. She pushed forward, driving him against the wall. It would be too much to hope for the breath to be knocked out of him, for him to be a little more mortal, but the abrupt ferocity of his kiss in response startled her. His hand slid into her grit-laden hair, broad palm cupping her skull carefully, and Bo finished with his buttons and yanked his shirt out of his pants.

"Let's get this over with, yeah?" she said breathlessly.

He didn't deign to respond to this one, but he was _alive_ in her hands, the long ropy muscles of his arms shifting under the skin as he reached around her and pulled her up against him. Bo had more experience than the average person did with repressing images of someone nude when you saw them again in platonic contexts, but she couldn't shake the feeling that the next political audience was going to be _real_ awkward.

She couldn't shake the feeling that she would not be able to forget his lips mouthing hotly up the side of her neck or the adept manipulation of his hands or the thin, tugging streamers of power that slipped through her skin and pulsed directly in her clit.

_God, I love Fae_ , she thought dizzily as he held her up one-handedly and effortlessly, her knees bracketing his hips as she fumbled for the fastening on his pants in the dark.

"A little undignified," he said. The hoarse rumble of his voice was amused.

"What - " Bo paid him back by licking delicately up his throat, lingering over his steady pulse point and finding the hollow of delicate, sensitive skin underneath his jaw. " - you want to linger?"

"I will grant you the point."

Her pants were a lot easier.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," she gasped, aloud this time. She felt _drunk_ , two seconds after he was inside her, like...she couldn't even describe it. A mouthful of pop rocks all over her body. "Ohhhh headrush." She clutched at his face, her head falling back, and he obligingly kissed the tops of her breasts, sucking bruises against the skin. She dragged her hands down his cheeks, feeling the warmth of his skin. _Your pulse is picking up now, huh,_ she thought, and she spared a little corner of her mid-coital-hazed mind to be smug.

Rock ground around them, dust sifting onto her shoulders.

"Harder," she whispered - her voice shook and then cracked. He obliged wordlessly, his sweat-slicked chest heaving against hers in a deep breath, and their movements quickened, dirty and hard and wet. She could get spoiled, feeding on him. Jesus, she could immerse herself in sipping from his mouth and not come up for days.

It was - 

Bo tightened around him and shook apart, and the power struck through her like a tolled bell. He tightened his grip around her waist, letting her legs slide down and her toes point groundward, and then his eyes opened.

Wait.

His eyes?

She could see the gleam of them in the dark. The foundations of their little prison shuddered and Bo clawed her hair back from her face, struggling to breathe steadily.

She only narrowly bit back a terrible crack, surely Kenzi-inspired, about earth-shaking sex. By the time the roof collapsed into spiderwebbed fragments of dust and the drifting scent of wet earth, his clothes were back in place.

Bo tugged her pants back up over her ass and tried not to sigh too long-sufferingly. Kenzi was going to _freak_.

"So," she said, and cleared her throat. He looked up at her, rubbing his hand over his jaw and mouth, and his eyes were as impenetrable as ever; the way he looked at her hadn't changed at all, measuring, always measuring, and giving no clue as to for what. Bo licked her lips.

"About that butcher."


End file.
